


Blood, Gore, and Cherry Blossoms

by Ficlet-Machine (Wordsmith)



Series: ficlets, drabbles, and other small treats [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood, Caring Partner!Hux, Established Relationship, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Hux will kill you if you touch his Kylo, Huxlo, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Protective!Hux, Recovery, hurt!Kylo, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith/pseuds/Ficlet-Machine
Summary: After Starkiller, Kylo falls apart. He has failed, and the failure eats away at his sanity, until his mind is as hurting and infected as his body. He is worth nothing now, he deserves nothing; not life, not care, certainly not Hux.Hux disagrees with this sentiment.





	Blood, Gore, and Cherry Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegoodlannister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodlannister/gifts).



> This was written about six months ago, and published over on Tumblr. I have been meaning to post it here, but I kept forgetting it. 
> 
> Trigger warnings are as stated in the tags above. Do not read if you are sensitive to descriptions of wounds, blood, gore, or any mental illness related themes.

Hux had been haunted by a feeling of urgency, of dread, of something oh so terribly wrong, for the last eighteen hours while aboard the shuttle back down to Naboo. Snoke’s order to bring Kylo to him had been postponed out of sheer necessity after they had gotten a full report on the extent of Kylo’s injuries. Hux knew that Snoke cared little about wounds and fractures - as long as Kylo could stand on his feet, he could train. Well, Hux greatly disagreed with that particular sentiment after having seen the price his knight had to pay for the brutal - if not straight up sadistic - training regimes Snoke had set up for him. It had taken well over two years for him to even bring Kylo up to the absolute minimum weight to still fall on the right side of healthy - progress which was constantly under threat, because every time Kylo went to the citadel, he came back starved and sleep deprived, with broken bones, deep gashes, bruises and welts all over. No, Snoke would have to wait.

Because Kylo was in a far worse state now than Hux had ever seen him - and that was saying a lot, given all the sorry states he’d already seen Kylo in. This was on an entirely different scale, and late at night, when he couldn’t stop himself, he worried about whether Kylo would ever fully recover from this ordeal, or if this was the thing that would finally break him forever.

They hadn’t gotten him back to the Finalizer quick enough - the bacta would not be able to help close the wounds properly. There would be massive scarring, and that was when Kylo had finally healed. Right now, he was bedridden still; hidden away in a luxurious mansion that had belonged to a sympathizer of theirs. The man had taken a blaster shot to the back as a reward, but they couldn’t risk anyone finding out about Kylo’s whereabouts - not with the state he was in. And what a state it was. Apathetic bordering on catatonic for days on end, interrupted here and there by days of the worst meltdowns Hux had ever witnessed, when Kylo would wake thrashing and screaming from nightmares, pulling at the stitches on his face, clawing that the bandages around his midsection, opening all the wounds, and only worsening the budding infections setting in from all the bacteria having free access to his flesh as he had to be physically wrestled to the floor and restrained.

And it was all Snoke’s doing, Hux knew that. He had driven Kylo to the brink of madness, starving him of anything and everything that could have helped him feel human, that could have helped him heal from this. Instead he’d dangled the promise of power, of salvation, of worth, in front of him like a cruel master playing with his dog - keeping it always just out of reach, and now… Now Kylo, so perfectly conditioned into believing himself worthless, had to be stopped from killing himself in his attempts at self punishment for what he believed to be his greatest failure. Hux’ presence seemed to be the only thing that kept him somewhat safe and grounded, and Hux had done his best to see to it that he would remain by Kylo’s side as much as he possibly could. Seeing his beloved in such pain tore at him, but he would be damned if he let Kylo suffer alone - he’d done enough of that in his life already. But duties were a hassle that could not be ignored, no matter how much he for once wished it could, and he’d been forced back to the Finalizer to deal with some urgent matters.

Now, as he exited the speeder that had brought him back to the house, he could tell that something was wrong. Phasma, uniform splattered in blood and pus, hair standing in wild directions, and face paler than usual, met him at the door.  She didn’t even need to speak, he already knew what had happened; bracing himself, he let her lead the way inside - but to his surprise they weren’t heading towards Kylo’s room. When he questioned this, Phasma sighed.

“He’s in the garden,” she said. “There seems to be a force field of some sort around him. We haven’t been able to get near him, and he’s bleeding quite badly. He needs you, sir. You’re the only one he’ll let close.”

Hux nodded.

“Have someone bring me some bandages, needles, and some threads,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Phasma left to go find the necessary items, and Hux made his way to the garden he knew was most likely to house his wayward lover. The fruit trees there, cherries, Mitaka had informed him, were in full bloom, and on good days, Hux had carried Kylo out here so they could sit underneath the massive crowns of pale pinks and snowy whites. It always helped, even if only a little, and kylo would curl up against his chest and allow himself to be cradled like a child and held close as Hux hummed soft lullabies to him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the massive double doors, trying to ignore the blood staining the wooden floor - someone had tried to wipe it up, but not quite succeeded.

The sight that met him as he stepped out into the garden would haunt him forever, in all it’s heart-wrenching, gory, and tragic beauty. With the powder blue sheets pooling around him like some royal shroud - baring more of that pallid, feverish skin than was wise - Kylo sat under one of the trees; the little blossoms and petals dancing in the wind around him, coming to rest in the folds of the fabric, in his dark hair, in the coagulating blood staining skin. He had torn the light-saber wound open again, pulled out all the stitches, and now it was bleeding profusely - again. No, he realized as he stepped closer. Not really bleeding any more. Some new drops were still rising to the surface, but for the most part it had begun to clot, in big ugly smeared clumps - making his hair stick to his wounds, and ruining the fabric of the sheets. Kylo had his eyes closed, and even from a few steps away, Hux could see the redness around them, the feverish blush, and the sickly pale tone making his moles stand out even more against the rest of him. His hands were stained that same disgusting brownish red, there seemed to particularly large amounts of it under and around his nails, where they clutched the fabric in order to keep the sheet at least somewhat wrapped around him.

Sometimes Hux wondered how many times in a row a heart could break and still come back from it - because when he saw Kylo like this, so lost to the world, so completely and utterly broken - it hurt more than anything he’d ever known. It hurt so much he struggled to breathe, struggled to remain standing. He wanted to tear the world apart, knowing that not even that would be punishment enough for what had been done.

Approaching carefully, Hux knelt down next to him, removed his gloves, and gently brought his face up so he could have a look. Deep, starry pools opened to meet his - red rimmed and tear filled - and Kylo looked so young that it made Hux burn inside from the force of the protectiveness he felt.

“You… came back?” he managed, the movement of his lip just enough to open up a part of the wound and send more blood running down his cheek. “You didn’t leave me?”

Hux kissed his burning forehead, then removed his greatcoat so he could wrap it around Kylo’s shoulders - not caring that it too would be stained beyond any salvation by the blood and pus.

“Of course I came back,” he smiled. “I said I would, remember? I will always come back to you.”

“Why…?” Kylo lowered his gaze, fiddling awkwardly with a corner of the sheet. “Why would you come back to me when you can…. When you can go home?”

“I _am_ going home, Kylo. Every time I return to you, I come home.” He gently wiped away the tears beginning to form in Kylo’s eyes. He didn’t need the added pain of salt in his wounds. He didn’t need more pain at all. _Ever_. “Don’t you see, Kylo? Don’t you know that you are my home?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

Kylo seemed to drift away again, but Hux wasn’t too worried about it. He did that a lot when in this particular headspace. It was difficult for his mind to process thoughts and feelings, so he couldn’t both communicate and process at the same time. Luckily, Phasma appeared with his requested items, and instead he set about carefully cleaning the wounds, making sure Kylo knew everything he was doing, and going very slow so as not to trigger any bad memories. He was just about to begin stitching them back up, when Kylo looked at him again.

“Do you think I will ever recover?” he asked, voice so lost and small, and desperate it made Hux ache. “Do you think I’ll ever be free of Him?”

“I don’t think. I know. You will get through this, my love. We will get through this, together.”

Kylo was quiet again for a while, and Hux finished the stitches on his face without trouble. When Hux was half way through the wound on his neck and shoulder, Kylo spoke again.

“Can we stay here? You and me. Can we have our home here? I… I like it here. I like the cherry trees.”

“Of course. Anything you want, love.”

“Hux…?”

“Mm?”

“You are my home, too.”

Hux finished the stitches, and applied new bacta patches and bandages, then he pulled Kylo into his arms and kissed those feverish lips as if they were a banquet and he was starved. The gentle wind played with their hair, with their clothes, sending a million frail little petals raining down around them.

Yes, there was a long way to go yet. But for every last little moment like this, with Kylo in his arms, his hands clutching to Hux’ jacket as if he was life preserver, with the sweet smell of cherry blossoms mingling with the coppery tang of blood… For every last little moment like this, Hux could take a thousand bad days. It was worth it. Kylo was _always_ worth it.

 

Fin.


End file.
